


Fazbear Family

by CrashStack, rainb0we



Series: It's Just Showbiz [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abduction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Child Neglect, Depression, Family, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied(?) Racism, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Instability, Multi, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23976736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrashStack/pseuds/CrashStack, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainb0we/pseuds/rainb0we
Summary: When his job application is approved, Barkley finds himself knee-deep in anxiety regarding Freddy's.
Relationships: Wade Harrison/Cole Davis
Series: It's Just Showbiz [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728733
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	1. Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his job application is approved, Barkley finds himself knee-deep in anxiety regarding Freddy's.

“-and what was your last name, son?” Henry’s voice echoed through Barkley’s ears.

The sudden noise had Barkley’s gaze darting back at the man behind the desk in front of him. Henry’s hands were attentive and clasped together on top of his usual workspace. It was riddled with various pieces of scrap paper. 

Barkley gave his collar a nervous tug, “P-Pethel, sir,” he responded meekly. It wasn’t the first time that he was in an office, applying for a job, but Henry keeping a tentative eye on him since he sat down made Barkley uneasy. His hands were almost instantly tucked closely back together in his lap; it made him seem smaller in front of Henry. 

Henry gave a small nod to the quiet response, he fixed the reading glasses that rested on his face. It didn’t make Barkley any less nervous knowing that Henry built his robots from scratch. He noticed that Henry’s smile had some sort of edge to it, not visible, but there.

Henry cleared his throat, Barkley’s attention snapping back towards him. “Since you’re workin’ part-time, you won’t be doin’ any of the heavy liftin’.”

A curt nod, “Yes, sir,” Barkley quickly replied.

The rough man stood from his seat with a quiet grunt. His back popped and straightened with the movement. 

Henry tilted towards Barkley, “Well, sport,” his hand reached out to the smaller, palm stretched out. A faint smile crept onto the rough man’s face.

Barkley’s hand went from being tucked in his lap to gripping onto the other’s. Henry tightened his hold and gave the smaller palm a quick but firm shake. “Welcome to the Fazbear Family!” Henry was beaming when he let go. 

Henry sat back down with a grunt, “You start Tuesday, son. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, sir,” The response was more than quick as Barkley continued to fiddle with his nervous hands beneath the desk.

“Radical. We’ll see you then, Mr. Pickle!”

Barkley blinked, but kept quiet. “T-Thank you, sir,” it was a mere whisper. He quickly rose to his feet and out of the room. The door was shut with a quiet _click_.

The whole building was emptied of children, the animatronics were settled backstage, and most of the lights were dimmed. Though, the silence was deafening to Barkley as he shuffled through the main area to get to the front door. He took a deep breath as he walked. Social interactions with people outside of his family made his anxiety rise to the high heavens. It was see-through; he could see his parent’s small, bright red car through the glass.

He gently pushed the doors open to let himself out. His keys jingled to the sound of the late-night owls hidden in the trees. 

The car made a slight noise when it was unlocked. Barkley slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door. He slumped down in the cushions with a relieved sigh.

“Never thought I’d nail it,” he whispered.

Getting a job, a _real job_. The thought made Barkley’s stomach turn. He never liked being in crowded, open areas such as Freddy’s. He played with the key chain in his hands as he pondered. 

Barkley only took the job offer because it would give him a reason to be outside the house a little longer. It sure beats doing homework every waking hour of the day. Mr. Harrison was the only person that treated him like a human being. Common courtesy wasn’t something that Barkley was used to.

The car was put into drive. He remembered when he started learning to be on the road at the age of fifteen; his parents wanted him to be successful in the fastest way possible, and getting his driver’s license was a start. Even though his house was half an hour away, he wasn’t too familiar with the roads leading to Freddy’s. It would be another thing to get used to in the long-run.

Half an hour seemed like a day in Barkley’s eyes. He didn’t realize he was already home. He couldn’t remember when he had zoned out on the road. 

The car was parked perfectly in the slanted driveway. It was pretty late at night for Barkley, but it wasn’t past his curfew. He couldn’t stay out later than 8:00 after school, but he didn’t mind.

He was at his front door, fiddling with the chain of keys in his hands. Barkley hoped he wouldn’t have to do any chores tonight since his parents could already be in bed and watching movies.

Barkley quietly slipped through the open door and shut it behind him; he made as little noise as possible when he tip-toed across the living room. He almost completely made it past his parent’s bedroom when he heard the faint noise of the tv. They were watching their usual soap operas, which was a relief to Barkley.

He crept down the hall toward his bedroom; the door left slightly ajar from rushing to school that morning. His homework was already completed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t study a little more. He left a small crevice for the open door as he turned to face his bedroom. 

Everything was put in place, his collectibles neatly set on his cabinets and his bed was made that very morning. The faint glow in the corner of his eye had his head whipping towards it. His lamp was on, glowing and blanketing the room in a soft, yellow hue. He must’ve forgotten to turn it off last night when he was studying late into the night for a chemistry test next week.

He stretched out his arms tiredly above his head, giving a slight grunt in response when he heard a faint _pop_. Barkley trudged until he was near his bedside, rubbing his eyes.

“Been a long day,” his keys were tossed carelessly next to his lamp. He threw off his shoes and fell back onto the mattress with a soft, but hard, sound. 

Barkley yawned; he hadn’t gotten much sleep for the past week. He had a rough time catching z’s when something was planned, like social gatherings or a visit from his relatives. He got himself as snug as he could; Barkley wasn’t awake enough to change into something more comfortable than a mere dress shirt and tie.

Maybe if he closed his eyes now, he’d be rested enough for Tuesday.


	2. Headaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole barely survives another hangover. Will he be able to survive another work day?

_My fucking head..._

Cole let out a long, pained groan as his hazel eyes were pried open from a deep slumber. The night before had his head pounding, the pain only growing worse at the thought of going to work. He was lying on his back; glassed eyes fixated on the living room ceiling. The room was cool despite the faint, sunlight peeking through the snowy curtains.

With a subtle movement, he tried to sit up. The motion resulted in the throbbing pain from his head traveling to the back of his neck; he grimaced tightly.

“Fuck,” his hand came up to rub his temple through the dark hair. The once quiet sound of the alarm grew into a noise that flooded his ears in seconds. Cole frowned in the direction of the peal.

His hand reached behind him to get to the power button. It _clicked_ softly, letting the deafening silence take over the room once more. Cole didn’t mind the quiet, in fact it was pleasing to be in. It meant that Bev wasn’t awake yet, and that was all that Cole could’ve hoped for. He didn’t bother checking the time, Henry could care less about an employee being late as long as they showed up. Though he had an inkling that he had hit the snooze button a couple times.

The blanket was pulled off of his legs and onto the ground with a gentle sound. His feet were touching the amber, hardwood floor. Cole’s eyes glanced over the calendar near the front door. _Tuesday_. He took a breathy sigh; it was only the beginning of a long, boring week.

His legs were shaky as he pushed himself off the navy couch. The fabric was soft and the cushions were plush, but it wasn’t enough to help soothe his aching body. The seats were placed in the middle of the room; not touching any walls. It made the stiff man feel uneasy, almost exposed.

Cole glanced over to see his work uniform lazily thrown onto the coffee table in front of him. Beverly must have taken it downstairs while he was asleep. She was known for leaving the house so early that the sunrise couldn’t catch up.

Cole needed some relief for his aching head. He always had some pain relievers in the cabinet just in case he had a bad night.

He scratched the back of his neck as he quietly made his way to the bathroom doorway. The cabinet was right behind the mirror above the sink. When he finally got to it, he didn’t hesitate to swing it open. He hated looking at mirrors, seeing himself made Cole feel a pooling guilt in the pit of his stomach. It felt better when he couldn’t look at himself.

When he found the pain relievers, he was able to take two tablets without water. He was so used to taking them that he didn’t need an aid to get it down anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to use water. The oak cabinet was shut after Cole finished brushing his teeth.

There was a faint grumble that echoed inside the room. Cole didn’t even realize that he was hungry. Now that he thought about it, he hasn’t eaten much since lunch yesterday. He could probably make something quick so he can get out the door faster. He didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

The floorboards creaked under Cole’s socks when he drugged himself to the kitchen. A shiver crawled up his spine when his feet touched the cool tiles beneath them. Cups and empty cans scattered the countertops; it smelled of alcohol. He knew Beverly would get onto him after work. He had been so busy that he forgot about cleaning.

Cole yawned as gently as he could; the movement around his jaw made his head throb. The pantry cabinets opened with a gentle sound. There wasn’t much in their pantry that didn’t need to be prepared on a stove, but there were bagels. 

There wasn’t any time wasted in ripping open the packaging and dropping a halved bagel into the toaster. It was one of the only things that Cole could actually eat at the moment without making himself sick. 

He felt the slight heat that the toaster gave off in the cold room; it made him quake. Cole wanted to crawl back to his sad spot on the couch and fall asleep for eternity, but he needed to get to work.

_Work_. He always dreaded going.

Cole blinked. If Beverly was gone then that meant…. he couldn’t drive to work. An annoyed grumble escaped him, “Could I….?”

He wondered if he should call Wade to bring him into work. It’s better than spending a mere fifteen minutes in the car with Jamie. Whenever he just talks, it seems to make Cole angrier. Then again, he didn’t want to bother Wade with an issue that he could just solve by walking. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before; walking to work wasn’t an uncommon thing for Cole whenever Bev took the car for her outings.

_POP!_

The sound had Cole practically jumping out of his skin. He had forgotten that he was making himself breakfast. It was an accidental rush of terror, but it made him irritated that a stupid toaster could scare him that badly.

A paper bag was set on the counter. He didn’t feel like eating, but that doesn’t mean breakfast couldn’t be saved for when lunch-time rolls around. The stiff man was quick to place the hot bagel into the bag, folding the top carefully beneath his fingers. Later, it would be placed in Cole’s work bag.

-

The pale hand grazed the neck of the telephone. Thoughts were swarming inside his head. Should he call Wade? Would he be upset? Did he want to take time out of his day at home?

The speaker was already pressed lightly against Cole’s ear. The whole world stopped as he turned each number into the telephone. He had memorized Wade’s number the day he received it. Something about the number clicked in Cole’s mind so perfectly each time a digit was processed.

It felt like a rock was dropped in his chest when he heard the faint ringing. Cole’s skittish eyes glanced at the clock above the mantle.

_8:13_

“Hello?”

Cole jumped out of his gaze and darted it back toward the telephone; his hands suddenly felt shaky. Wade wouldn’t be mad, right?

“H-Hey,” the stiff man wheezed, “It’s Cole.”

“Cole! Nice to hear from ya,” Wade’s voice was as chipper as ever. Ever since he and Wade started talking more often, something was lifted in the southern man’s spirit. “What’s rockin’?”

“Nothing much. Getting ready for my shift.”

“You workin’ today?”

“Unfortunately.”

A few silent beats passed by. Cole’s grip was still just as shaky as it was minutes before; fingers wrapping idly around the telephone’s cord.

Wade cleared his throat. “-m guessin’ Bev is at work?”

“Yeah,” The response was quick, but a whisper.

“Did.. Didja need a ride?”

He could just say no, keeping Wade from the burden of carrying Cole to work. The last thing he’d want is to put more stress on him, especially when he barely takes time off from his job. He could make it easier for his co-workers if he were to walk the whole way.

Before Cole could even think of a response, he heard a faint jingle from the telephone.

“Alrighty then. I’ll be there faster than you can say ‘peachy keen’.”

“I-,” A quick, almost relieved sigh left Cole, “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

He gingerly placed the phone back where it had been mounted on the wall. Cole felt some relief knowing that Wade could be there for him, especially when he couldn’t seem to place the right words. All he needed to do was wait; he knew Wade didn’t live far, but it felt like forever.

After setting his bag on the coffee table, Cole found himself sinking into his usual spot on the couch; his head being supported by the navy cushions. The dim eyes shut slowly with each passing thought.

Why would Wade waste so much time on him?


	3. Empty Bottles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole gets a ride to work and another reason to quit drinking.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

The hazel eyes jolted at the sound. The once still head jerked in the direction of the front door. He could faintly see a large silhouette of a man through the slightly tinted glass in the center of the dark oak. The nerves in his body started pulsing; he could remember the many times he had opened it, revealing one of the massive boy-toys Bev had met at the local bar. Sometimes he’d get pushed to the side, but other times the man at the door would be the first one to sock Cole in the stomach that night.

Yesterday had just been them. The thoughts scrambling in his head were enough to fill his body with tremors. He didn’t remember when he had stood from the couch. Bruises from days before were still there from the times he had been knocked back and forth like a volleyball at the beach, the soreness of each one hot against his body. The shaky hands were tugging the sleeves on his dress shirt, pulling them back down to cover the colorful splotches. 

Cole blinked. The shaking in his hands had stopped right as one had pressed down on the silver door knob. It was as cold as ever and crept up his wrist. 

A gulp; the grip had tightened when the knob started moving. Despite the slow movements, everything was moving too fast. He should’ve been more prepared. He could’ve worn something heavier to soften the inevitable blow. He could dart out the door and stand a graze, he just needed to get it open.

The skittish hazels met a towering, hulking figure, head decorated in a soft amber; a southern twang tinted the deep hickory voice that slipped between soft lips.

“Howdy, there!”

The wave of relief that washed over Cole felt like a tsunami. He suddenly remembered that he had called someone to carpool him to work. It wasn’t just _anyone_ ; it was Wade. He was so close that he could smell the aroma of black coffee and cigarettes. The humid air outside was enough to make Cole want to close the door and enjoy the cool air inside.

The pale on Cole’s cheeks had lifted, warm pink filling the space almost instantly, “Hey.” He felt like his eyes were glued onto the southern man’s smile. He remembered when Wade would barely talk to anyone at work. It made Cole feel special when he was able to see the tooth-gapped grin, though he probably didn’t deserve to have that privilege.

“You ready to hit the road, darlin’?”

The once pale cheeks were burning, “Yeah,” he wheezed. The nickname that had been used on him for months now was something he would never get used to.

The forest eyes were suddenly washed with concern when he studied the smaller’s appearance. Cole’s eyes darted towards the ground. His heart was already pounding against his chest. Did he forget to comb his hair again? Did he forget to use some of Bev’s makeup in order to mask the bruising? Did he-?

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Wade’s voice was suddenly a whisper, his face layered with worry. The soft tone that blanketed the usual deep timber made Cole’s heart putter.

Cole frowned and shrugged at the question, lightly dragging his foot on the hardwood floor. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in awhile. After he came home from work, Beverly was already onto him about something trivial. All he could remember was cooking something for dinner and waiting for Bev to go to bed. He had started drinking at some point, but ended up passing out on the sofa.

“I’m mighty worried about you,” Wade murmured. His calloused hands were clasped together and his body softened into a hunched position. A concerned frown was painted over his face.

The sentence made Cole want to shrink in his spot even further. He didn’t like making Wade upset. “I’m fine,” he shrugged. A crooked smile was forced onto his face as he gripped the backpack a little tighter.

Wade shifted in his spot. A flash of sunlight hit one of Cole’s eyes, making the fake smile melt into a tight grimace and his face pinch in an attempt to shield itself from the rays. The metal rim on Wade’s truck had caught a bit of sunlight and shot right into Cole’s face. 

The crimson red truck was parked in the driveway just inches away from the street, bumper facing the road just so. Its curves were worn from years worth of road trips. The rubber tires no longer had a clean, jet black shine; they had turned into a dark grey, brown splotches dotting the edges of each one. Faded wood surrounded the back of the truck, making sure Wade’s tools and materials didn’t fly out with each pothole he could hit. Its engine was quietly puttering underneath the sounds of the birds outside.

Wade raised a brow as he studied the smaller’s face. Strands of amber hair whipped at his cheek when he turned to give his vehicle a quick glance. “Oh,” a blurt escaped him.

The skittish hazels were quick to look back at Wade right when their eyes met again.

A rough hand came up to scratch behind the gruff man’s neck idly, forcing Cole to jump slightly at the sudden movement. “Yeah, I get myself inta quite the pickle when I drive backwards,” he said softly, letting a sheepish smile escape. “-s hard for me to pull out of the parkin’ lot at work, too.”

Cole’s eyes followed the rough hand’s movements as it traveled back down. The _jingle_ of the keys were quiet as Wade’s hand breached his right pocket. The gruff man pulled his keychain from his jeans with a swift jerk.

The forest eyes became curious, looking over Cole’s work bag; it was tossed lazily over one of his sharp shoulders, “That all your packin’?”

“Yeah,” the skittish eyes maneuvered for a moment to acknowledge his faded, navy blue work bag once again. Cole’s gaze suddenly had a stoic tint to it “It’s all I ever pack, Wade,” sarcasm lightly tugging at the tone, he shifted in his spot.

Wade blinked. “Oh,” he whispered. A rough hand was suddenly outstretched in front of Cole, palm opened. “Well, I can snatch it offa your hands if you’d like,” he said, giving a knowing smile. “It’ll be safe in the rear of Ol’ Rusty.”

“Old… Rusty,” Cole deadpanned. 

“Yeah,” Wade gave the truck a quick glance. “She a beaut, ain’t she? Dolled her up myself,” he preened.

“Just take the bag.”

“Okey-dokey.” the southern twang chirped.

Cole gave a quiet sigh at the remark as he slid the hefty bag off of his shoulder, “Here.”

The strap was eventually clasped in the gruff man’s palm and thrown over a wide, rounded shoulder. “Much obliged,” Wade beamed.

“Are we leaving now?” 

Wade spun on his heel toward the driveway, “Sure are!” He practically skipped to the truck, the worn bag slightly swinging back and forth under the man’s grip.

Cole shook his head. The spare keys were mounted on a silver hook to the left of the entrance. They were taken off the wall and shoved into one of the pockets on Cole’s worn, grey jeans.

The dark hair swayed to the side as his gaze met the living room; empty cans that were forgotten had riddled the coffee table’s surface. Sunlight was peeking just so through the silver curtains; it barely left a reflection on the aluminium. He gave a nervous frown. Just thinking of what might become of him when his shift was over was enough to make breathing even harder. Beverly wasn’t an understanding person, especially when it came down to him.

“Heya, Cole,” Wade called. The noise almost made Cole drop his keys. His gaze had darted toward Wade in the moment of surprise. “You comin’ or what?” 

The skittish hazels blinked. Cole glanced once more into the room, dread was swarming in his chest. “Yeah,” he wheezed, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

His stiff hands didn’t forget to lock the deadbolt before leaving. 

-

The truck was carefully turned into a parking spot behind the building. Wade eased the brake, slowly pulling the wheels to a stop. “Alrighty,” he started, “We’re here.”

Cole unbuckled and reached behind him into the backseat, grabbing one of the rough straps of his worn backpack. A soft grunt was wrenched from his throat as he lifted and brought it into his lap. The truck was put into park, jostling the wheels when the brake was let go.

The southern man was watching the smaller with a concerned frown. Both of Wade’s hands were carefully placed in his lap. Cole slumped back in his seat with a sigh, his cheeks lightly trickled with pink when he met Wade’s gaze. 

A nervous laugh escaped the scarred lips, “What?”

“Just take it easy today, would ya?” 

“Wade, I’m okay.”

The southern twang let out a quiet whine, “I know, but I’m worried. You don’t look so good.” 

Cole’s face burned brighter. He wasn’t used to having someone dote on him like he was a sickly child. A fresh wave of embarrassment was sent through Cole’s body. He huffed, shoulders lowering, “Okay, okay. I won’t do anything too rash.” He mockingly tilted his head and fluttered his lashes, “That make you feel better?”

Wade snorted and rolled his eyes amusingly, “I guess so.” One of the calloused hands were settled on the steering wheel, fingers curling around the glossy leather. 

Cole shifted in his seat, smiling crookedly. “Thanks for the ride, Wade.” His hand was already inching the passenger door open.

The sudden pressure on his face and the hand on his shoulder nearly had Cole jumping out of his skin. The skittish hazels glanced over to see Wade pulling back. Wade’s face was filled with warmth and love, his smile as sweet as ever. The hand on Cole’s shoulder was lifted and settled back onto the console in between them.

Cole wasn’t sure when his jaw had dropped. His cheeks were so red that it burned, but he didn’t care. The unsteady fingers came up to graze the cheek Wade had pecked. “Oh,” he couldn’t help but blurt.

The freckled cheeks were dusted with pink. A chuckle lightly rumbled Wade’s chest. “Just thought you could use one,” he started, “Kisses can heal anything.” 

_No kidding._ Cole’s jaw had clenched between his words. A small, nervous laugh slipped through the chipped smile. “Y-Yeah,” it was a whisper. The smaller leaned toward the passenger door. “Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem, darlin’!” Wade sang. His face settled into a concerned frown. “Will ya be alright until closin’?”

The skittish hazels glanced back over at Wade. A reassuring smile etched across the scarred lips. “I’ll be okay,” he started, “Don’t worry about me.” The passenger door creaked open, letting the heat of the air flood inside the truck.

“If you say so,” Wade mumbled, “Don’t be afraid to give me a call if you need to.”

“I know.” Cole’s shoes hit the pavement with a soft sound. The worn backpack was hoisted back onto one of the bony shoulders, his fingers gripping the strap loosely.

He made sure that his dress shirt’s sleeves were pulled down just enough. His feet felt like they were being dragged against the rocky ground as he made his way to the back door. The humidity of the air lightly dotted his skin with every movement. The pale fingers finally reached the silver knob; it was cold in between Cole’s fingers. It made his spine shiver.

He glanced back to see that the truck was still there, Wade waiting patiently in the driver’s seat for Cole to get into the building safely. A steady warmth settled on the pale cheeks once more when he met the forest green’s gaze.

The southern man lifted his hand to give a small wave; his smile was nervous, but it was tinted with warmth. Cole’s clenched jaw had to be broken out of ice to give Wade a crooked smile.

His unsteady hand pulled the metal door open. Its hinges squeaked under the movement; it made Cole’s teeth grit.

It wasn’t long before the door was shut behind him. The cool, crisp wind of the building’s air conditioning hit his face like a semi-truck. The jet black hair was slightly moved by the air as he dragged himself inside. The smell of pizza sauce and birthday cake filled Cole’s nose; it only made him wish he had eaten something before he left home.

“Well, well, well,” Jamie shifted in his spot, the smile on his face cheeky, “Someone looks alive today.”

He didn’t realize how badly his cheeks burned until it was said. Cole gave a quiet grumble as he shuffled past the manager. Jamie’s face was pushed away by Cole’s hand as he walked by.

“Hey!” Jamie spluttered.

Cole’s eyes shot back at the blond. “Not in the mood, Jamie,” he hissed.

“You’re in some kind of mood.”

There was a mocking growl that wrenched from the gruff throat as the worn backpack around Cole’s shoulder was tossed near one of the legs of the table.

The manager’s teal eyes were watching him warily, careful not to say anything else. He was holding a worn clipboard, papers riddled with backroom storage information was clipped to it. 

The gruff man made his way toward the counter, taking one of the nearby markers on top of the stained marble. Jamie tapped on the back of his clipboard as he watched Cole pull the cap off of the marker.

An uneven, red ‘X’ was drawn over the calendar. It crossed over yesterday’s box; Monday. A small sound came from Cole as he pushed the red cap back onto the marker. “So, new kid’s coming today?” he grumbled the question as he tossed the marker carelessly back onto the marble counter.

Suddenly the concerned expression melted away. “Right-io!” Jamie sang. His dyed _it was very obvious, Jamie_ , blond hair almost bounced with the positivity that always covered the manager’s voice like a blanket. 

Cole was already dragging himself back to the table settled in the middle of the room. It was a faded, white fold-out table that they had used for parties, lunch breaks, and meetings over the years. Stain after stain dotting the surface no matter how hard the janitor would clean it. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember when it hadn’t been there.

The unsteady hands lifted the backpack from the floor and set it onto the table with a soft sound. Two bottles of water and a couple beer cans were taken out first. 

Jamie glanced up from his clipboard; eyeing the cans, then at Cole “One of those days, huh?”

The gruff man paused. He jerked his head back to give the manager a cold glare. Jamie shrunk in his spot when their eyes met.

The hazel eyes shot back to the table and continued to shuffle through the bag attentively as if the other never said anything. A brown, paper bag was taken out of the backpack. It was partially rumpled due to the journey from home.

Jamie cleared his throat, “You know…,” Cole rolled his eyes in his spot, carrying on like he wasn’t listening. 

The clipboard was held closer to Jamie’s chest. “I expect you to show the kid around today; teach him how everything works,” the blond said meekly, tapping his fingers on the back of the clipboard.

Cole sputtered and turned fully back at Jamie with wild eyes. “What?! Why me?!” he shouted.

The manager tried his best not to wince at the sudden reaction, gripping the clipboard in his hands. “I think it’d be good for you,” he started, smiling sheepishly, “You could mentor him, you know, like a sensei.”

“No,” the other retorted, scowling deeply.

Jamie gave a genuine frown, shoulders slumping, “Aww, why not?”

“I don’t want to deal with some kid breathing down my shoulder, Jamie.”

“He’s a lot more flighty than you think.” An amused smile crept onto the manager’s face, “Reminds me of how you were when you first got here.”

The fiery rage on Cole’s face had simmered down into a cold grimace. His face was slightly pinched with embarrassment. Cole crossed his arms loosely, looking away from the manager.

Jamie turned to place the clipboard softly onto the counter behind him, then stepped toward the gruff man. Cole’s eyes widened when a hand was placed on his shoulder. The skittish hazels looked over to Jamie, the blond’s face was open and filled with warmth.

“I know you don’t like meeting with people, or talking to kids, or being nice to folks, or-”

“Jamie.”

“Okay, okay,” the manager lifted his hands disarmingly, smiling, “I’ll stop.”

Cole studied the ground for a moment with a small frown, arms still crossed under his chest. Jamie leaned against the table, “You know I won’t make you talk to the kid, right?”

The gruff man shrugged in his spot; it made the manager’s frown tighten. Jamie straightened on his feet after a moment and stretched his arms out. Cole peeked up from the ground at the manager.

“It’s alright, Cole,” he started, fixing his shirt and smiling warmly at the other man, “I can get somebody to help him out for you. I know you can get uncomfortable sometimes.”

Cole didn’t say anything, though he was grabbing at his rolled-down sleeves. Jamie was already skipping towards the break room door. He waved a hand back at the gruff man, “Let me know if you need anythi-!”

“Jamie?” It was a quiet squeak.

The manager stopped in his tracks, one hand was on the doorknob as he turned his head back. “Yeah?”

“I, uh…” Cole bit his lip, he glanced over at Jamie. The warm teal eyes were watching him carefully, waiting. “I can show the kid around.”

The blond raised a concerned brow, “Are you sure? I don’t want you t-”

“I can.”

The frown on Jamie’s face turned into a crooked smile. “Alright,” an amusing sigh escaped him as he twisted the metal knob. “Just go easy on him.”

Jamie had already left when Cole looked back at the cans he had left on the table. He huffed and put them back into the worn backpack.

“Doesn’t look like I’ll be needing these today.”


End file.
